Apology
by OtakuLady
Summary: When Gimli complains of injury due to Legolas’ riding skill, what can Legolas do, but apologize? A cute little LegolasGimli fic set during the second moviebook. Have fun!


(A/N) A cute little one shot that came from two very weird fan girls talking while watching a Lord of the Rings marathon! You know this is gonna be good!

Otaku herself wrote this, with a small commentary here and there by Mirae, so enjoy!

Apology

Pairings: Legolas/Gimli, cause I'm a huge fan of interracial lovin'!

Warnings: Spoilers for the extended editions, and quite a bit of flirting on Legolas' behalf…

Description: When Gimli complains of injury due to Legolas' riding skill, what can Legolas do, but apologize?

Disclaimer: If I owned LotR, there would be a whole lot more Elf-Dwarf love, now wouldn't there? And don't forget the cute little hobbits and their adorable mage-lover!

Apology

THWAP!

"Confound it, Elf! Must you always jaunt us around on this infernal beast?!" Gimli growled over the wind rushing through the elf's hair, causing that, too to annoy the Dwarf to no end.

It did not help that with every bounce of this wretched animal, the Elf's bow and quiver, not to mention those blasted knives of his, smacked Gimli square between the eyes! His forehead was becoming sorer and sorer by the hour.

Now Dwarves were famous for many things, including their stout endurance, but not even he could handle the slow torture that was riding this beast with the Elf. Not just the danger his bow represented, but also, of the slow mental crucifying that was his beauty. Gimli could see it even from behind. It was in the pale golden hair, so reminiscent of the fair Lady of Light, Galadriel.

He had asked for one strand, and had received three, but in the giving, his desire for her had only intensified. Now he sought out reminders of her in odd places, as in this Elf before him.

He was so lost in his musing he didn't even notice the strange, soft look he received over the shoulder of the very Elf he was musing over…

Legolas couldn't help the disgusted look he shot towards the Dwarf that shared his table. The male was eating as if he hadn't eaten in days, as he well hadn't, but that was beyond the point. Did he have no restraint? Did he have no manners?

He was even using his own beard as a NAPKIN, for Eldar's sake!

Legolas began to doubt his own heart… How had he managed to choose THIS over some delicate elf-maid, or even an elven warrior, strong and graceful? Why had he chosen a DWARF, of all things? So stunted, about as graceful as the rock they so love?

But his heart had chosen, and he knew better than to fight his heart. _On some things…_ But he ignored that, he didn't wish to dwell on his downfall that evening.

He'd much rather concentrate on how he was to _properly_ apologize for hurting his Dwarf. He had an idea, but it seemed just a small amount over much. Perhaps though, it would be the best way to make that thickheaded Dwarf listen.

After all, he was his mother's son…

Later that evening, as they were bedding down, the grand guests of the king sharing the few rooms that remain hospitable in the much abandoned hall of Théoden King, Legolas waited for his chance.

Gimli, unaware of the ramblings in the Elf's mind, undressed, slipping down to the light leather shirt he wore to quiet the shifting of his armor. It served well enough in use as night clothes. His hand slipped through his beard, still filthy from the evening meal. He reveled in the stench, it helping him keep his mind off of the lack of stone and quarry smell.

He sighed happily when his hand touched upon the leather thong, on which a small, delicate glass and silver vial languished. Inside were three silver-gold hairs, soft from the mane of the Lady of Lothlorien.

He slid the thong from around his neck and pulled the vial clear of his rust-red hair. He gazed at its contents lovingly, lost in the rhythmic stroking of the glass. He dared not remove the hairs, for what if he should lose them? No, that would never do…So he kept them safely inside the beautiful keepsake, safe from harm.

"I still have not apologized, master Dwarf." The soft voice of his Elfin companion brought him from his deep contemplation, and made him ashamed that his Dwarven hearing could not detect those petal-soft footsteps, crossing the room.

"I know not of what you speak, Elf, so speak clearer." Gimli grunted, his frustration at being interrupted compounding with the pain from the day, causing his temper to be short.

But when he looked at the Elf, long blonde hair loosed for the day, clad in little but his soft doeskin under tunic, he saw the contrite expression, the softened eyes, and suddenly another visage passed through his mind. The same soft grey eyes, the same pale sunlight hair. Legolas reminded him of the great Elven lady for which his heart pined.

"I speak of the injury I have been doing you. I fear that my riding skill has caused you pain, and for that I feel I must apologize. What do you wish in atonement?"

The Dwarf was astounded. Here was an Elf, his companion, his rival, his competitor, offering him anything, in apology, for a small amount of pain during the days ride?! What was going on? But before he could speak, the Elf was pulling some of that spun-gold hair over his shoulder, hands running over it slowly.

"Perhaps some of my hair would suit you?"

This caused the Dwarf to stutter and give his companion a strange look.

"Why would I wish to carry YOUR hair?" his question was the only one that would stumble from his shock-beguiled lips.

"You seemed so fond of my mother's; I just felt that I should offer…" Legolas spoke, his hopes crumbling. He had hoped that since the Dwarf had some small amount of feelings for his mother, that meant he might perhaps come to love Legolas as well…Perhaps he had been wrong.

"Your MOTHER?!" The Dwarf cried out in utter surprise. Legolas looked up then, at the startled face of his love, and couldn't help a small smile.

"Yes, my mother. Did you not know? I'm the third born son of the Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel."

"But that makes you a-"Gimli paused, quite unsure of what grounds this left them on.

"A prince, yes. Does this change how you see me, Gimli? Does my lineage change me that much?" The elf-prince cocked his head to the side, like a curious child, storm-eyes saddened.

"No, no. Just…Just surprising, is all." Gimli grumbled, ashamed at being caught so unawares as to the royal status of his companion. He didn't know why, but it was less his royal blood that now endeared him to Gimli, but perhaps more the fact that that blood was also that which ran in the veins of the fair lady.

"I'll-I'll let you dwell on it. Give me your answer when you can."

And suddenly, the lights were out, and Legolas was in his own bedroll, leaving the Dwarf to suddenly much more strange thoughts.

Alright, the box comment may have been a bit out of line, but even Gimli had to smile at that. It was amazing, the Elf's ability to act normal, even in the face of so much death. As they fought side by side in the battle of Helmsdeep, he couldn't help but notice other things about the Elf as well.

Such as the beautiful predatory gleam in his eye when he releases yet another deadly arrow that cleaves an orcs skull. Even while the Elf had outscored him, he couldn't help but feel proud at his skill. He would make a fine husband for some lucky Elf-maiden. So why did the Dwarf feel a slight pang in his heart when he thought that?

He knew later, the Elf would blame himself for the breech in the wall, but at least Gimli could comfort him with the knowledge that he tried his hardest to rectify the situation, by reaching it and defending it, as quickly as possible.

Why did he even care? Was he going soft on the Elf? No, because he knew that should Legolas prove to be false, or not try his hardest, Gimli would lose all faith in him. For that is what Gimli finds most…agreeable about the Elf. He was as sure of Legolas' skill as he was his own, and would trust it at his back indefinitely. He knew he could trust Legolas with his life.

Though never with his pride…That he wouldn't trust the Elf with as far as he could throw him. The Elf's playful jibes often hit FAR too close to home for his comfort's sake.

But he had to admit, that did make things interesting.

So where was he when it came to Legolas? Did he truly loathe the Elf? No, he couldn't, he was too much like a Dwarf in Elf's skin. Too much like himself. But was he just friends with him?

Not that either. What he had, this feeling, it was too fond, too warm for that. But what was it? It was rather more…Substantial than what he had for the Lady of the Light. Legolas was not just a pretty face, but rather a fierce mind, a strong, fast body. He was a quick bow, a sharp arrow, a lithe foot. He was a warrior, and stronger than any Dwarf (aside from himself) that Gimli had ever seen.

He would make a fine bride as well…

For come now, the Elf was far too pretty to be anything else.

Now, come the end of this fight, he would have an answer for that pretty little Elf-thing. If only the DAMN ORCS would CEASE!

(This scene is plagiarized from the extended edition DVD. This is REAL LIVE SCENES!-otaku)

"Final count Forty-two." The Elven Princelings face was a mask of pride. Gimli almost hated to bring him down.

"Forty-two? That's not bad, for a pointy eared Elvish princeling. I myself am sitting pretty on forty-three." He said. Suddenly the elf prince suddenly drew an arrow and shot it right between Gimli's legs.

"Forty-three." The Elf stated.

"He was already dead!" Gimli asserted.

"He was twitching!" Legolas countered.

"He was twitching because he's got my AXE embedded in his NERVOUS SYSTEM!"

(End of the quotes. Funny isn't it! –Mirae)

Legolas and Gimli were again bedding down for the night, Aragorn fast asleep, worn out from the days battle and drinking. They had had a rather merry party after wards, and Legolas had had to wake a VERY drunk Gimli up to drag him towards his own furs.

"Legolas…" Gimli slurred. Legolas humored him, in his drunken state, and hummed a response.

"I've got your answer, now." Gimli stuttered, trying to maintain this train of thought.

"M-hm." Legolas said, placing Gimli in his bed, pulling the covers softly around his drunken love, the slight buzz from the beer dulling his attention. He didn't notice until too late the hand reaching behind his head and pulling it hastily into position, as drunken Dwarven lips pressed to his in a heated kiss. He sat shocked for a while, until Gimli pulled off and settled softly with a sigh into his bedding.

"You're hair is a treat indeed, Elfling, but your kiss is an even better prize."


End file.
